Sumo ga sukidesu ka?

On the second or third day of sumo, we headed to our usual general admission seats (very top left corner of the TV screen, in case you're wondering) only to find a group of very drunk, very rowdy men in our area. We joined them. They were all septuagenarians.

We like our sumo and we're happy to cheer. They liked their shochu and were happy to share. And best of all, we all loved sumo and liked all the same fighters. Which is to say, they all cheered for whatever fighter I cheered for. It was synergy.

They were well into their drinks when we joined them. One gentleman had taken on the role of Master of the Cups, which involved making sure that his friends cups were never empty. Nor did they have to get up for a refill, because that would be potentially disastrous and/or crippling.

Locutus isn't able to sit still through the entire day, of course. Jenn and I take it in turns to walk our son around the stadium. Often, strangers will grab our son and run off and sell him on the slave market because we're in Asia and they do that in...wait, no. They hug him and coo at him. Because he's adorable. And we've gotten very good at answering the same questions: how old he is, where he is from, and his propensity to endure slave shop labour conditions.

Okay, kidding! Kidding! They don't ask us where he's from. And it's only the old ladies that insist on hugging him. But we've made friends with a great many regulars in the crowd and they all smile and wave as we pass by. And we make new friends every day.

But this story is about the drunk old men. The drunk old men took a particular shining to us. It may have been our adorable son. It may have been his very pretty mom. Or it may have been his dad cheering crazily for their national sport. Whatever the case, they began giving us gifts.

At first, it was the shared drinks. Then one fellow brought us some oranges and cakes. Another brought a can of pringles, some sumo cookies and fish snacks while Locutus and I walked up and down the stairs. There was congratulatory fish jerky when Ikioi won (GANBARE, IKIOI!). And on the way out one of the fellows insisted on giving Locutus some money for snacks.

Some of the free stuff Locutus has scored so far

I could barely understand anything they said because, hey, they were pretty drunk, and spoke fast, colloquial Japanese. Not my strong point. And they couldn't understand anything I said because, hey, mediocre Japanese student! But in the end it didn't matter one bit. We watched sumo together and cheered together and the language barrier wasn't a barrier at all.

And you can TOTALLY hear us yelling madly during Ikioi's match.